


Burn

by Writing-Rammstein (writingfanfic)



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 11:37:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14810627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-Rammstein
Summary: For the prompt: 'A smut fic with Till as a vampire and Richard as a vampire hunter please'I tried. I would kill for vampire Till...





	Burn

Fire against ice, skin against skin, and the faint whispering in Richard’s ear.

“< _You gave in._ >”

He wants to reply but can’t, instead moaning as he’s stretched by cold, thick fingers. He could stop this; there’s a bag with holy water and a stake in across the room, and he’s not glamoured as most victims are.

 _But then… that means he wants this_.

And he does. He can’t deny that right now, the figure on top of him, not the traditional, svelte, lithe vampires that you get on TV – that the public can handle – but one of the old-style ones. Built so strong that even if you get them in daylight, they can send you through a barn door.

 _Or force you down onto a couch_.

He wasn’t forced. He’d better stop lying to himself – the fingers are withdrawn from him, and he pants, desperately.

“<Beg for me, Kruspe.>”

“<Please,>” he answers, without a second’s hesitation, and Till smiles. His fangs are withdrawn – somehow that’s scarier. He doesn’t intend to feed on Richard. His intents lie elsewhere. Till strokes himself, and Richard feels him pressing against him.

“<Mine.>” As he slides himself into Richard up to the hilt, Richard moans wordlessly. He’s spread out, hard and aching, but he can’t move his hands from where they’re gripping onto the ragged velvet on the ancient chaise-longue; he wonders if he  _has_  been glamoured. That’d make this okay. Somehow. There is no sound here, in this place of stone and death – just the sound of the storm outside, and the fire in the fireplace so cobwebbed that he was surprised the fire wasn’t choking them both. Well… Till didn’t breathe.

“<Harder,>” he finds himself whispering, and Till obliges, gripping his hip with brute strength that is only a fraction of what he can summon. Richard knows this. They’ve broken each other’s bones. They’ve stabbed each other, punched each other, bitten… oh, there’s been some biting. If Till had really been trying, Richard thinks as the vampire’s thumbs sink into his hips, he could’ve been turned twenty times over.

“<Say that you’re mine.  _Say it_. >”

“<God, I’m yours, Till, I’m yours,>” Richard moans weakly, and Till grinds up, hitting that spot that makes Richard feel as if fireworks are going off in his stomach, as if he’s about to cum right there on the spot, and specifically as if his knees are about to stop working. He can only thank God that Till felt like lying him down – lips press to his, and he greedily kisses at them, absurdly grateful when he is kissed back, Till’s mouth swallowing his moans.

“<Fuck, Richard…>” Till snarls against his lips, and Richard clings to him, knowing this will hurt tomorrow when he wakes up in his pathetic little room.  _The vampire has moved on_ , he will tell the others, and pretend his scars are from a fight. He wonders privately how long this will go on for. “<Richard, I’m close…>”

“<God…>”

“<There is no God. Beg me instead,>” Till snarls, and Richard cums, hard, toes curled as he’s almost winded by the feeling that floods his body, spattering his stomach and chest with his own cum.  _Without even being touched_. How pathetic, he thinks without caring as his body burns, and Till snarls again, mouth at his neck; Richard feels the fangs flick out, and then there’s a sharp pain in his neck as Till grunts his way through his orgasm. Richard clings on without really knowing why – perhaps because they’ve danced this dance a few times. He knows what comes next, he thinks, fear spiking through that dreamy feel of orgasm, and Till looks down at him.

Maybe this will be the time Till turns him. As an example. A pet. He clings, and then Till pushes himself up, as unstoppable and cold as a glacier.

“<Does it always end like this?>” he asks, and Richard feels a little hatred. Just a little.

“<Only with you,>” he replies, coldly, and Till smiles. “<Would you like me to walk into town of my own volition, or will you force me, as always?>”

“<I didn’t know you wanted to stay in the vampire’s castle so badly.>” Richard knows this is not Till’s castle. He would never pick somewhere so… grandiose. But the vampire knows how to set a scene.

“<You know what I mean,>” he says, and Till nods. He clambers back onto him, and for a minute, Richard wonders if he’s going to survive a Round #2 – then Till wraps himself around him, and Richard closes his eyes in revulsion. Not at Till. At himself. “<This is new,>” he forces himself to say.

“<You are mine. My pet.>” Till’s voice is heavy, and Richard wonders for a moment if he would die should he dart for the bag, and if so, would he prefer that to this? And then Till pulls him close, and Richard closes his eyes. He’ll take this over waking up alone in the bed in the inn.


End file.
